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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641613">You Don't Need Medicine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier'>Brumeier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atlantis Medical Group [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Medical, First Meetings, Gen, Kid Fic, Psychologists &amp; Psychiatrists, Sentinel Senses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:48:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Ellison is desperate to find out what's wrong with his daughter. Luckily Hammond Memorial Hospital employs a psychiatrist who knows just what's wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atlantis Medical Group [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/490336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>What If? AU Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Don't Need Medicine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Whatif_AU: Medical</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you so much, Dr. S!” Tyler gave him a big hug. “You’re the best!”</p><p>“Call me anytime, kiddo,” Blair said.</p><p>It was always a little bittersweet for him when one of his patients moved on to a permanent placement. He was glad for them, of course, but it was hard for him to say goodbye. He’d been told he got too invested but refused to see that as a fault.</p><p>Tyler’s case worker nodded at Blair before walking Tyler out.</p><p>“Don’t forget to keep up with your journal!” Blair called out after them and got an over-the-shoulder wave.</p><p>There was no time to celebrate Tyler’s victory, or hope he’d be successful in his new home, because Blair had more patients to attend to. He had appointments with kids that were residents on the ward, he had consults with patients in the main part of the hospital, and he had new intakes to deal with.</p><p>Blair never had much downtime.</p><p>He grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria for lunch – everyone was still talking about Dr. McGarrett’s insane takeover of hospital administration, something Blair hadn’t made his mind up about just yet – and ate at his desk, reviewing patient files and trying not to get crumbs on everything.</p><p>There was a perfunctory knock on his door, which was never closed, and Mandy stuck her head in.</p><p>“Dr. Sandburg? We’ve got a walk-in.”</p><p>Blair sighed. So much for lunch. “What’re we looking at?”</p><p>“Single dad, pre-teen daughter. He’s pretty agitated.”</p><p>That wasn’t unusual. People didn’t come to see Hammond Memorial’s top shrink when they were having the best day of their lives.</p><p>“Put them in the peach room.” Peach evoked a feeling of contentment and happiness, and Blair would take every advantage he had. </p><p>He gathered up his notebook (patients responded better to that than the tablet), an intake form, a couple bottles of water, and a bag of Goldfish crackers. He took one last bite of his sandwich and then headed to the peach room. He paused just outside the door to get a sense of what he might be walking into.</p><p>The daughter was curled up on one of the couches, all but hidden in the oversized gray hoodie she was wearing. Her father was pacing around the room, his expression clearly conveying his worry. He was tall and built and…okay, not the time.</p><p>“Hey, there. I’m Dr. Sandburg.”</p><p>The dad scowled at him. “You? You don’t look old enough to be an intern.”</p><p>“Okay, that’s a valid observation. A little hurtful. I can assure you that I have all the requisite degrees and experience, in both psychiatry <i>and</i> psychology.” Blair took a seat across from the daughter and gestured for her father to do the same. “Why don’t we all get to know each other? What brings you in today?”</p><p>“Jim Ellison,” the dad said, sitting next to his daughter. He was still giving Blair the stink eye, but at least he hadn’t dismissed him out of hand. “This is my daughter, Marisol. We’ve seen every neurologist, dermatologist, allergist, and ENT in the state. They all say the same thing.”</p><p>“It’s all in her head,” Blair guessed.</p><p>Jim’s glower deepened. “She’s not making it up.”</p><p>“I’m sorry if any of those other doctors made you feel that way,” Blair said. “Marisol? Hey there. Can you tell me what you’re experiencing?”</p><p>“She’s –”</p><p>Blair held up his hand. “I’d like to hear it from Marisol, if that’s okay.” He tried to catch her eye under that hood. “I know you don’t know me, but I promise this is a safe space. You can tell me anything, no judgment.”</p><p>Marisol shifted, the hood moving just enough for Blair to see her face. She was a pretty girl, with big brown eyes and a solemn expression.</p><p>“You had a turkey sandwich for lunch,” she said, so softly Blair almost couldn’t hear her.</p><p>Intriguing opening gambit. “I sure did. Do I have some in my teeth?” He opened his mouth really wide and made a show of poking around in it.</p><p>Marisol didn’t outright laugh, but she did make a sound that could’ve been amusement. “No.”</p><p>“Ah, I get it. You’re psychic.”</p><p>“This isn’t a joke!” Jim snapped.</p><p>Marisol’s hand snaked out from the pocket of her hoodie and she put it on her dad’s arm. “It’s okay, Daddy.”</p><p>“Mr. Ellison, I take your daughter’s mental health very seriously. Being all stressed out won’t help anyone, so I’m just trying to set Marisol at ease.” Blair held the Goldfish out, and Marisol took them. “How did you know what I had for lunch?”</p><p>“I could smell it.”</p><p>Blair nodded and jotted down a note. <i>Enhanced sense of smell</i>. “That’s a pretty strong sense of smell. Must be difficult to be around things like garbage.”</p><p>“It’s pretty gross. But, like, it’s not always like that.”</p><p>“It comes and goes?”</p><p>Marisol nodded. “Sometimes I can’t smell anything.”</p><p>“What else?” Blair asked, because a wonky sense of smell wouldn’t be enough to get so many different types of doctors involved.</p><p>“I hear things sometimes.”</p><p>“Voices? Or just sounds?”</p><p>Marisol shrugged, turning the bag of Goldfish around and around in her hands. “Everything.”</p><p>“She can hear things people are saying over a block away,” Jim said. “I’ve corroborated this myself.”</p><p>That was an interesting choice of words. Blair wondered if Jim had a job in law or law enforcement. More importantly, Blair was getting a glimmer of an idea about Marisol’s condition. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.</p><p>“Marisol, do you sometimes lose time? Zone out?”</p><p>She nodded. “It’s happened at school a few times. It was really embarrassing.”</p><p>“She’s missed a lot of class time,” Jim said. “We need to get a handle on this, whatever it is.”</p><p>“Tell me about your other senses. Touch, taste, vision. Do they all get wonky on you?”</p><p>Marisol nodded again. “Some days are really bad. Everything hurts.”</p><p>The look Jim gave his daughter was full of anguish. He was clearly a man who wanted to protect his daughter from the dangers of the world and was unable to do so. He probably viewed psychiatry as a last resort, but one he was willing to take a chance on.</p><p>“That must be really difficult,” Blair said. “When did all of this start?”</p><p>Marisol looked at father, and it was Jim who responded.</p><p>“She went on a campout with some friends about three months ago and wandered off on her own. She got lost.”</p><p>“How long were you lost?”</p><p>“About four hours,” Marisol said. </p><p>“That must’ve been scary.”</p><p>“Not at first. It was like an adventure. But then it started getting dark, and I still didn’t know where I was, and my skin started hurting.”</p><p>Blair tried not to let his excitement show. He’d done his graduate thesis about Sentinels, people with five enhanced senses. He’d heard stories about them when he was a kid, traveling around the world with his vagabond mother. It had been the sole focus of his life for a few years, but he never found a true Sentinel. Maybe it was fate. If he hadn’t gone into psychiatry, he might never have met Marisol. </p><p>He’d found one now, though. He was almost sure of it.</p><p>“I don’t want to give you any false hope here, Marisol. But I have a pretty good idea about what might be wrong with you. I just need a day or two to check on some things.” Blair pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the calendar. “Can we schedule an appointment for Tuesday at ten?”</p><p>“You know what this is?” Jim asked. “Can you…Is it something you can fix?”</p><p>The man was practically bleeding hope, and Blair really wanted to give it to him.</p><p>“I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, but if it’s what I think it is, there’s a therapy plan we can start immediately.”</p><p>“Will I have to take medicine?” Marisol asked.</p><p>“No,” Blair assured her. “No pills, no electric shock, nothing invasive.”</p><p>Her eyes filled with tears and her father captured her in a tight hug. He looked a little damp around the eyes himself.</p><p>“Thank you,” Jim said, his voice thick with emotion.</p><p>Blair took down a few more details for the intake form before walking the Ellisons out.</p><p>“I’ll have more definitive information for you on Tuesday,” he promised. “Until then, try to keep Marisol’s sensory input to a minimum. That includes eating bland food.”</p><p>Jim nodded. “We can do that.” He held out his hand. </p><p>Blair shook it, and for the briefest moment he swore that everything around him stopped, as if the universe was holding its breath. It was the strangest sensation. Jim snatched his hand back, looking discomfited. Had he felt it too?</p><p>“Thank you, Dr. Sandburg,” Marisol said.</p><p>“Hang in there, Marisol. We’ll work through this together, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Blair watched them leave and tried not to look at the time. He had to finish out his day before he could get to the Sentinel research. The Burton book was at home, but he had encrypted files on his computer full of Sentinel information he’d collected over the years. He should also put in a call to Dr. Stoddard. He wanted to be intellectually certain of what his heart already knew.</p><p>He was going to be spending a lot more time with the Ellisons.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>AN:</b> Title is part of a quote from the first ep of <i>The Sentinel</i>, Blair to Jim: “Forget the tests. You don’t need medicine. You need information.” I was feeling nostalgic for these boys and this idea popped into my head.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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